


You Lift Me Higher

by SpangleBangle



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Altered Origins, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Never Met, Demisexual Character, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Genderqueer Character, Miscommunication, Multi, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self Confidence Issues, Slow Build, Study Buddies, Team Dynamics, Third Years Team, Work In Progress, hard of hearing character, mainly Bokuto POV, nerds a whole lot of nerds, past kurodai
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 10:41:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7505104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpangleBangle/pseuds/SpangleBangle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bokuto is determined this year is going to be different.  No more embarrassing high school antics - he's an adult now, time to act like it. If only it weren't so hard not knowing anybody on campus, not knowing how far people will put up with his yelling and constant energy and silly brain. If only there was somebody, or some people, he could be himself around. That would be nice.</p><p>Or - an AU where Nekoma and Fukurodani never met, and Bokuto has to wait until college to find the nerdy, goofy, meme-enabling idiot of his dreams. Who happens to have amazing legs. Damn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Lift Me Higher

Bokuto squinted at the line-up of other students at try-outs. It appeared that the lankiest bugger among them was trying to do some kind of soft-shoe number without being noticed, apparently dancing along to the music in his head while his peers warmed up. Even for volleyball, this guy was _tall_. He looked like he should be at the basketball court instead. He was like, eighty percent leg. It didn’t help that his gym shorts, probably cut for people with more proportionate limbs, looked like goddamn booty shorts on those stems. Dang.

But whatever the guy was doing, Bokuto gritted his teeth over the impulse to call over to him and ask what the song was. He was no longer at high school, this was a fresh start. New year, new living situation, new Bokuto. A mature, adult Bokuto. That was the plan. So no more impulsive, embarrassing public scenes like he was used to at Fukurodani. Focus, dude, focus. Be the Akaashi.

His chest clenched a bit at the reminder of the eerie absence of his friend. But Bokuto shook his head like a dog clearing water from his ears and concentrated on stretching his shoulders properly. He fixed a serious frown on his face and kept to himself, though the other boys in his group were chatting amongst themselves. He wanted so badly to let his nerves get the better of him and to just be loud and enthusiastic to smooth over any awkwardness, but forced himself to listen quietly instead.

The other guys were discussing their high school teams and rankings, their favourite positions and speculating about the other strangers at try-outs, and their chances. Bokuto kept a smug grin off his face as he listened; it sounded like none of their teams had managed to get past regionals. And then there was Bokuto, having been to nationals twice. He began to breathe a bit easier about his chances of getting on the team.

“Alright, you layabouts,” the terse-looking team coach called as he walked forward. He had a wild appearance, all bleached blonde hair and piercings and a commanding scowl that made him look older, more like a stern uncle than a rebellious youth. “I don’t especially care which schools you’ve come from or what your match experience is right now. If you bomb your try-out, your old school’s prestige won’t save you or promote you. Here, players get in on skill alone. Is that clear?”

The assembled freshers all called back affirmatives. Bokuto noticed some older students had come in behind the coach. _Must be the second and third year regulars_ , Bokuto supposed. They made no moves to join the new applicants and fanned out behind their coach.

The coach nodded, a grim set to his mouth. “First, I want to see your spikes. Everyone line up and get ready.”

They did as he said, forming a neat line around the edge of the court while the coach readied a trolley of balls. Bokuto resisted the impulse to shoot to the front and modestly placed himself in the middle, not wanting to seem like a show-off. This mature adult thing was a bit of drag, he was discovering. One by one the applicants threw their best spikes to the coach’s tosses. Bokuto wasn’t overly impressed by any of the ones before himself – they all had generally good aim and pace, but there was nothing outstanding that he could see so far. He limbered up his right arm as he waited his turn, permitting himself a smile at the warmth in his muscles, ready to slam.

And then the coach was setting to him and it was finally time to shine. He got into his jump and flew into the air, a careless grin stretching his jaw as he soared and leaped and swung _down_ , the sting of the ball against his palm a millisecond of satisfying pain echoing the loud _smack_ of the ball flattening itself on the court floor from the force of the impact, before bouncing up in a high arc.

Bokuto landed lightly back in his feet, the electric thrill of adrenaline coursing through him. He wanted to throw his arms into the air and hoot, but caught himself just in time and quickly sobered up as he noticed everyone staring at him, including the coach.

“Name?” He asked after a moment’s pause.

“Bokuto Koutarou, Coach.”

The coach narrowed his eyes, then gave a quiet _ahh_. “The Fukurodani applicant.” Bokuto nodded affirmation but didn’t boast that he’d been the ace, captain, and best spiker all at the same time, though it waited on the tip of his tongue. The coach watched him for another moment, then grunted and called for the next applicant.

Bokuto jogged off court to join the others who’d gone before him, joining them with a quick smile though he thought they looked a bit intimidated. Bokuto tried not to notice he was still being stared at by pretty much everyone in the gym, including the other applicants and the regulars, who seemed to be assessing him. He noticed the lanky dancer eyeing him as well and met his eyes for a second, making the other guy look away in embarrassment at being caught. Bokuto sent a quick smile his way in case of being misunderstood but wasn’t sure if the guy caught it or not, he appeared to be studying the shortening line in front of him.

Bokuto chewed the inside of his cheek; his instinct was to give everybody one of his sunny smiles and yell something silly and fun to clear the atmosphere. That way nobody would think he was some hotshot who thought he was better than anyone else – he was just a doofus who loved volleyball. Anxiety gnawed at his guts and he did his best to channel Akaashi’s permanent calm and focus on watching the others spike. The others continued to be varying degrees of interesting, though long legs had a better spike than most. Not as much power as Bokuto’s, but definitely more than a lot of the others.

The coach ran them through the rest of the standard drills and Bokuto found his eyes being caught by leg dude more and more. He gave a good accounting of his own skills, naturally, but his attention wandered. It looked like Billy Elliot was a pretty damn good defence player. His blocks were freakishly tall and fast, his receives were solid and his body was flexible.

Bokuto felt his mouth dry up as he watched the guy leap into a graceful, controlled dive. His body arched in a single sinuous line, arms stretching out and legs curving at an asymptote. The ball met his skinny but strong wrists with perfect contact and soared magnificently back to the coach, dead-on target with a good reduction of spin and speed. The guy completed the dive, fully committed, and landed smoothly on his chest and stomach before bunching his legs under himself and springing back to a ready position with an unmistakable air of poise and unruffled calm control.

 _Oh, damn_ , Bokuto thought to himself, knowing his eyes were wide. The dive reminded him of a nature documentary he’d seen once, a slowed-down film of predator cats chasing down prey that showed their limbs bunching and flexing in smooth, curving lines, all grace and power.

“Name?” The coach asked, the first time since asking Bokuto.

“Kuroo Tetsurou, Coach,” the cat-man replied respectfully.

“You’re from Nekoma.”

“Yes, Coach. I was the captain.”

Bokuto’s eyebrows inched up his forehead a bit more. Fukurodani had never met with Nekoma, despite them being relatively near each other. The tournaments had just never seen fit to match them up, though Bokuto knew of them by reputation. Not a particularly aggressive or quirky team, but with an amazingly solid defence that refused to let their opponent on the scoreboard in any significant way. And this guy had been their captain? No wonder his receive was so good. As a wing spiker, Bokuto knew very well how a good receive like that could demoralise a side’s attack. No matter how hard you attacked, if the ball was kept off the court floor you just couldn’t score. It was one of the most frustrating things in a match, and always sent Bokuto into a foul mood when somebody picked up his best spikes. It didn’t happen too often, but Bokuto had a feeling that if Fukurodani and Nekoma had ever matched up, it would have been a closely-fought event.

The coach hummed quietly and gestured for the next applicant. Panther-dude, or Kuroo apparently, took long strides to the side where Bokuto and the others waited. Bokuto fought to contain himself – he wanted so badly to run up to the guy and gush about how fucking amazing that receive was, and ask how often he practised, and what his other defence was like, and would he maybe practice with Bokuto sometimes, but didn’t want to seem overeager and put the guy off.

Plus, there was a sort of… lazy look to his face Bokuto hadn’t noticed before. His eyes were low-lidded though he seemed to be watching everything, as if he were cautiously amused by everyone around him. His mouth seemed to rest in a natural tilt that could either be teasing or sardonic, and spoke of some kind of joke he wasn’t about to share. His hair was dark and messy in a way that made Bokuto’s heart pound, making him think of rough hands and sweaty situations as it stuck up in odd places and fell down to cover part of his face. He walked with a long, loping stride that further cemented the predator-cat imagery Bokuto was entertaining, and God _damn_ those were some fine legs. Strong lines of toned muscle and sinew flexing under his skin, from his calves all the way up to glorious narrow hips. Damn, those thighs. His arms seemed the same, skinny at first glance but obviously well-trained. His hands were wide and long-fingered, perfect for creating difficult blocks.

And there was a subdued confidence in the way he moved. It wasn’t quite arrogance, but more… surety. Bokuto’s heart was racing with a mixture of exhilaration from the dive, appreciation for the gorgeous eye candy strolling towards him, and apprehension that he was going to make an ass of himself.

“Hey,” the guy said to the others, who returned the greeting with the same level of contained reserve they had to Bokuto after seeing his spike. The guy – Kuroo – blinked a bit in surprise at the cool reception, and ran a hand through his hair to hide his face for a second.

“Hey, hey,” Bokuto blurted out thoughtlessly, louder than intended. “That was a really cool receive!”

Kuroo turned to him and the vague unease vanished from his features, a pleased smile stretching his crooked mouth instead as he came closer to Bokuto.

“Thanks, man,” he replied, leaning his weight on one hip. Up close, he wasn’t actually all that much taller than Bokuto, less than an inch probably. But Bokuto knew that while he was tall, he didn’t appear all that gangly because of his broad shoulders and arms; he was honest enough with himself to know he generally came off as big and buff all over. But this ex-Nekoma guy, while very clearly in amazing shape and had some damn impressive thighs, was built on much skinnier, longer lines. All his limbs were very long and slender despite the toned muscle, making him look stretched-out and even taller than he actually was. Bokuto blinked, aware the guy was talking and he’d been too stuck in his thoughts to notice.

“Uh, sorry, didn’t quite catch that?” He said, anxiety trembling in his stomach again.

The guy just smiled and for some reason, his eyes darted to the sides of Bokuto’s head, to his ears perhaps. When he spoke, it was in a slightly clearer way than before, as if he were making an effort to be understood. “It’s okay. I just said it’s good to get back on the court. I’ve been practising at home since the end of the season, but us third-years didn’t want to intrude when the second-years started taking over. So, haven’t really been on a court properly in a while.”

“Yeah!” Bokuto agreed enthusiastically, too relieved at not getting an annoyed response to moderate his tone. He winced and toned himself down. “Yeah,” he said again, more calmly. “I really missed proper practice.” _With my team. Who give a damn. Who like me being energetic and enthusiastic and loud and stupid. Who don’t mind if I mess up._

His throat closed up for a second and he jittered his leg, the pressure against his sole and knee joint breaking him out of his thoughts.

“It’s Bokuto, right?” Kuroo asked, and Bokuto’s head jerked up to smile at him.

“Yep. Kuroo?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Nice to meet you, finally,” Bokuto smiled, offering his hand. “Maybe now we’ll get to play each other, if we both get on the team.”

Kuroo grinned, all sharp teeth and wrinkled nose in a way that made Bokuto’s chest feel all funny. He shook Bokuto’s hand firmly, long fingers strong and lined with calluses as they wrapped around Bokuto’s hand.

”You too. I’m really looking forward to it. Your spike was just as cool as I’d heard, by the way.”

“What? You’d heard about my spike?” Bokuto asked, unable to stop the pleased grin stretching his face very immaturely.

“Course, what Tokyo team hadn’t heard of Fukurodani? It’s a shame we never got matched up.”

Bokuto raised both arms and punched the air happily with a delighted shout, then remembered he was trying to seem mature and less like an excitable schoolboy. He coughed, embarrassed, and shuffled his feet. He risked a glance at Kuroo, expecting alarm or disdain or cautiousness.

Kuroo was just grinning, like he didn’t mind at all. Like he found it funny, maybe.

“Thanks,” Bokuto mumbled at his feet, chest still feeling tight. “That’s cool of you to say, like, that you knew about me and all that.”

“Sorry?” Kuroo asked, tilting his head closer to Bokuto with a slight frown. “I can’t hear you.”

“Oh. I said thanks, for saying you liked my spike,” Bokuto clarified at a better pitch. He noticed Kuroo watching his mouth as he spoke and grinned nervously. Something about this guy made him feel all jumpy and flustered and he was making an idiot of himself, as usual.

Kuroo nodded to himself and shrugged, all long limbs and sharp lines. “No problem, dude.”

They were both distracted by the distinctive sound of a clean receive on strong arms, seeing another applicant crouched low in a deep receive, serious expression on his grown-up face as he watched the ball arc off his forearms and back to the coach. He looked like the kind of respectable, grounded person Bokuto aspired to be.

“Sawa, nice!” Kuroo called with a grin. The player straightened up and grinned at Kuroo with a little wave, which Kuroo returned.

“You know him?” Bokuto asked, half-watching as the coach asked the receiver’s name and history.

“Yeah. He’s Sawamura, captain of Karasuno, in Miyagi. Our teams played a lot last year.”

“You called him Sawa,” Bokuto said with a curious lift of his eyebrows.

“I did? Oh.” Kuroo looked a bit flustered for just a second, like he’d let slip something secret. “We got friendly, I guess.”

Bokuto watched him for a moment, a grin growing on his face. _Aw yes, nice, nice, fucking nice._ “Cool,” he said instead, watching as Sawamura headed over. “I don’t know anybody here at all, it’s a bit weird. But it’s good you’ve got a friend here.”

He saw Kuroo relax in his peripheral vision, and then Sawamura was close.

“I told you I’d get in this university, didn’t I?” He teased Kuroo, poking his side. Bokuto noticed the Karasuno captain was apparently making an effort to make each word clear and distinct, or maybe that was just how he talked normally. “Told you I’d get my grades up.”

Kuroo swatted playfully at him and snickered. “And I told _you_ I had perfect faith in you. Nice receive.”

“Not so bad yourself,” Sawamura laughed, earning a ruffle of his close-cropped hair.

 _Are they still together, or…?_ Bokuto wondered, not sure how to feel about this development. He smiled at them both, trying not to feel like he was third-wheeling.

“Ah, Sawa, this is Bokuto, from Fukurodani,” Kuroo made the introduction after a moment. “Bokuto, this is Sawamura. He’s a wing spiker too.”

Bokuto shook his hand with a friendly smile. “That was a really cool receive.”

“Thanks, but your spike though!” Sawamura enthused. “That was amazing!”

Bokuto beamed and bounced on his feet a bit, happiness filling him in a rush. He loved getting compliments on his spikes. “Thanks!”

Kuroo was looking at him again, and Bokuto couldn’t really read his expression. _Probably thinks you’re a silly idiot,_ his brain supplied helpfully. Bokuto slipped his hands into his shorts pockets and stopped himself from bouncing, frowning down at the floor for a second. _Can’t even keep it together for five fucking seconds. Why are you such an embarrassment?_

“Anyway, uh, looks like receives are done,” he nodded as the last applicant finished. It was a good receive, solid but not exactly eye-grabbing like Kuroo or Sawamura.

Try-outs resumed quickly, and they had a chance to showcase their skills in all positions. Bokuto could see a bit of a trend already – those who proved themselves a bit more skilled than the rest were asked their name and they tended to congregate together while they were waiting for the next phase. About an hour later, Bokuto looked around at the little crowd he was standing with – Kuroo and Sawamura, and a guy called Oikawa who distinguished himself with his serve who Sawamura apparently knew; Iwaizumi from the same high school as Oikawa with a strong spike as well; Yaku from Nekoma, who had been their libero apparently; Kamasaki from somewhere called Datekou whose blocking was almost as impressive as Kuroo’s, and that was saying something; and Ushijima who needed no introduction, he was at least somebody Bokuto was aware of as Shiratorizawa had played Fukurodani a few times. There were some others from the former teams of Bokuto’s new apparent clique, but they didn’t distinguish themselves all that much to the coach.

Bokuto glanced at Kuroo beside him as they watched the other applicants finish up the last task of sprint times. Bokuto had kept himself in check as much as he could while still being friendly to the others, but he couldn’t help but feel a little bit alone in this new group. Everybody else seemed to know each other somehow, even if it was just ‘we played each other a few times’. Bokuto didn’t know anybody here at all – he felt that Ushijima didn’t count, as they’d hardly spoken off-court before. Other than Kuroo, who’d made a dedicated effort to talk to him, he felt rather… isolated.

He could feel his mood rapidly circling around his emo mode and wanted desperately to pull himself out of it so he could make a good impression on the team, but without Akaashi or his old team he wasn’t really sure how. One way he would usually try would be to bounce around and be as loud as possible, venting all the bad energy until he felt better. But he didn’t want to alarm anybody or drive them away.

 _Shit, fuck, balls_ , he thought miserably, hardly watching the last few applicants try and score themselves a place on the team.

He jumped about a foot at the light touch on his arm.

“Whoa,” Kuroo smiled, holding his hands up. “You okay? You look a bit stressed.”

Bokuto shrugged and half-turned away, not wanting to make even more of a mess of his impression on this guy. “I’m good. Just miss my old team a bit, I guess,” he mumbled, looking away at the second-years on the other side of the court.

Kuroo made some sort of noise in his throat and pulled on Bokuto’s shoulder until he could see him properly. “I can’t hear you, Bokuto, please speak louder.”

Bokuto’s stomach felt a bit wobbly at that, at the fact Kuroo wanted him to be _loud_. He firmly told himself not to get too excited – it was noisy in the gym, and everybody got sick of his yelling eventually.

“Um. Sorry, I was just saying…”

Kuroo gave a half-smile. “Look, dude, I haven’t got my hearing aids on, I need you to be loud and clear and face me when you talk right now, okay?”

Bokuto blinked at him for a few seconds as Kuroo’s words slowly processed into Bokuto’s overclocked brain. “Oh! Oh, dude, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know. I’ll be louder,” he nodded, at his usual pitch.

Kuroo smiled properly and Bokuto’s chest squeezed. _That is one nice smile, mister cat._ “Thanks, I appreciate it. What course are you taking, anyway? I forgot to ask earlier.”

“Generally Life Sciences, I think I’ll be going a Biology route,” Bokuto replied. “How about you?”

Kuroo laughed quietly. “Forensic Science. Maybe we should study together sometime.”

“Really?” Bokuto blurted, his fragile mood latching onto the fact Kuroo wanted to spend time with him outside of practice after only knowing him an hour or so.

“Yeah, why not?” Kuroo smiled and shifted his weight onto his other hip. “If we’re doing similar areas we’ll probably get similar assignments, at least in the first semester. And to be honest I’m kind of a nerd about science stuff, it’ll be nice to talk about it to someone who gets it. All my friends at school weren’t really academic.”

Bokuto was nodding so hard his neck nearly cricked. He beamed at Kuroo and rocked on his heels a bit, bad mood gone as suddenly as it had descended. “Yeah!” He yelled excitedly. “That would be really cool!”

Heads turned at the sudden spike in volume and he froze guiltily. _Wow, that lasted like, a minute. New record._

“Nice!” Kuroo said, almost as loudly with a smile that showed all his teeth. He clapped Bokuto on the back. “Alright, let me know when you want to study and we’ll set a day.”

The rest of the gym turned away when Kuroo started speaking and Bokuto had a strange suspicion the other guy had been extra-loud on purpose to stop Bokuto feeling embarrassed. Bokuto grinned foolishly at Kuroo and was trying to think of what to say when the Coach yelled that they were going to do a series of matches, the older students who were already on the team to mingle with the applicants and see what worked and what didn’t.

Bokuto visibly perked up at the news, unable to stop himself. Kuroo, who was apparently watching him, gave a quiet chuckle at his reaction. Bokuto flashed him a quick, half-bashful grin and turned back to the Coach, who was explaining the positions for the first mini-match. He noticed out of the corner of his eye that Kuroo had his head tilted towards the coach and he was watching him very closely. _Lip-reading?_ Bokuto thought. _Oh, that’s probably why he was watching my mouth earlier. Don’t get ahead of yourself, Koutarou._

Bokuto grinned when he realised he was being put in position by Kuroo, with Iwaizumi on his other side and Sawamura to the back with Yaku as libero; the rest of their side was made up of the regular players. On the other side was Oikawa as setter and Ushijima as spiker and Kamasaki as middle blocker, and a few of the other applicants mixed in with the regulars. Bokuto shook hands with the regular setter on their side as they had a brief huddle to share their best techniques; Bokuto happily related his usual spike set-up and the setter nodded thoughtfully, saying he could accommodate that. He was no Akaashi but he seemed more than capable and pleasant, so Bokuto eagerly got into position while they waited for the other side to finish their own huddle.

He jumped lightly on his feet to warm up again and grinned when he saw Kuroo doing the same, though he sprung higher with less effort. What legs. So unfair.

“You excited?” Bokuto asked.

Kuroo grinned back and stretched his hands up above his head, flexing his fingers. “You bet. By the way, what’s with those kneepads? Do you have an old injury or something?” Kuroo nodded down at Bokuto’s legs and Bokuto laughed shortly.

“Nah. Nothing specific, anyway. My diving receives are a bit hit and miss to be honest, sometimes I end up more on my hips or legs by accident, so I just like to be careful. I need these legs to spike.” Bokuto patted his thigh with a grin and adjusted the tall kneepads self-consciously.

Kuroo threw his head back with a silent, wide-mouth laugh, hands on his hips. It made his hair flop off his forehead for a second before he looked down again. “Okay, dude. If you want, I could help you out with that sometime. If you wanted, I mean.”

“Really?” Bokuto asked, wide-eyed.

Kuroo’s eyes darted away for a moment, a pleased smirk on his lips. “Yeah, really. How about it?”

Bokuto blinked at him for a second. “You’re really nice,” he blurted out. “Why are you so nice?”

Kuroo placed a hand on his chest and fixed a calm smile on his face, though his eyes sparked mischievously. “I’m always this kind.”

Sawamura made some kind of choking noise behind them and Kuroo stuck his tongue out at the Karasuno player. “I _am_ , shut up Sawa.”

“You’re so full of bullshit, Kuroo,” Sawamura managed between chortles. “It’s amazing, truly.”

Kuroo clutched at his chest as if wounded and rolled his eyes dramatically. “What is this? Are you sassing me this hard in front of all these people, Sawa? So rude.”

“Someone has to take you down a peg now Kozume’s not by your side anymore.”

Kuroo’s expression fell into a grumpy pout and the ex-Nekoma libero laughed and fist-bumped Sawamura. “Thank God for that, saves me the job of looking out for this loser anymore. Nice, Sawamura.”

Bokuto smiled at their teasing and tugged at Kuroo’s shirt to get his attention, feeling restless and a bit left out again. “Were you really serious? About the receive practice?”

“Hm? Yeah, dude. I like helping people, and volleyball, and you seem cool, so. Yeah?” Kuroo shrugged again, fiddling with his hair.

Bokuto watched him for a moment. _This guy is so fucking nice, what the actual fuck._ A rush of happy gratitude and giddiness welled up in him like there was a balloon expanding in his ribcage, filling him up and making him tingle. He grinned so hard his jaw and cheeks ached, forcing his eyes closed.

“Thanks!” He chirped and punched Kuroo on the arm, who was blinking at him as if stunned. Bokuto felt filled with determination and wild energy; his arms were warm and loose and his legs were strong and ready to play his best game. “Hey hey hey, let’s have a great game!” He yelled without thought, like he would at Fukurodani, and the rest of his side called back an affirmation after a surprised beat, even the regulars. He laughed joyfully and punched a fist in the air, then settled into a ready crouch, eyes on the other side of the net and mind focussed as Coach blew the whistle and one of the regulars served.

The rest of try-outs passed in a blur of single-set games, where they would all be shuffled around with the regular players in different positions with the coach and his assistants taking copious notes about each player. Bokuto barely noticed them, or thought about the pressure of getting onto the team – he was having way too much fun to care. He played really well, buoyed up and full of energy. Nothing felt too difficult or out of reach, he could jump higher and soar for longer and hit as hard as he ever had before, could yell and wave his arms and be as happy and sickeningly exuberant as he wanted and nobody complained, nobody told him to settle down, just smiled and patted his back after each successful spike. And it wasn’t just him – it felt amazing to be playing on such a high level with so many other great players, both his own age and older. He got a dizzy rush every time they pulled off a difficult set, or a last-minute touch, or a rolling save, or a fearsome spike or sheer wall of a block (even if the experience of one of his best spikes being completely shut down by Kuroo, Kamasaki and Ushijima working in tandem wasn’t the best, he was impressed with their skill nonetheless).

He could feel the team tentatively coming together, old and prospective-new, learning how everybody else moved and how they could rely on Sawamura to pick up any tricky weird-angle one-touches, on Oikawa to set near-perfectly to each spiker’s preference, on Kuroo’s lightning-fast and skyscraper-high blocks, on Yaku to keep the ball up and in play no matter what, on Ushijima to blow through blocks like they were non-existent, on Kamasaki to keep the attackers at bay, on Iwaizumi and, he supposed, himself, to keep attacking with force and energy and to mix things up with crosses and straights and feints and wipes all mixed together. Bokuto had a lot of fun showing off his extreme-angle cut shot, enjoying the look of stunned admiration on Kuroo’s face as it sailed narrowly past him on the other side of the net.

The regular players were amazing as well, moving with real team unity and cohesion, trusting each other fully to pull off ingenious and strangely-timed attacks and defensive manoeuvres with poise and polish, adjusting to the new members as best they could and encouraging them. It was exhilarating and amazing and all kinds of wonderful, and Bokuto felt so good and at home on the court the bad thoughts and insecurities were left in the dust as he laughed with his potential new teammates.

After over an hour of practice matches, the coach called everyone to a halt, surveying the sweaty and exhausted young men with a tight smile.

“Alright, that’s enough for now. Try-outs are done. Everybody write down your name and contact email before you go, you’ll know within a week whether you’ve made the team, and in what position. Good work, everybody, and I look forward to seeing you all next week at practice.”

They all gave a yell and bowed respectfully to him before breaking into a loose group around the piece of paper, chatting amongst each other.

Bokuto was having difficulty letting go of his energy, even though his limbs were shaking with muscle fatigue, he felt ready to go another hour, his fingertips itching for the feel of the ball and his weary joints protesting as he walked, but it was the best kind of feeling.

“Yo,” Kuroo called, holding his hands up.

Bokuto laughed gleefully and slapped his palms like he was spiking a ball.

“Ouch, dude,” Kuroo grinned with a snort of laughter, shaking out his bright-red hands. “Good hustle, though.”

“You too!” Bokuto beamed, then remembered the match was over and he should stop shouting. His voice was going a bit hoarse from all the yelling and he forced himself to speak quieter. “You too. That was really great. I hope everybody makes the team.”

“Yeah. Hey, can I get your number? So we can set up a study time, if you still want that.”

“Sure!” Bokuto croaked and swiped the pen and a scrap of paper from the guys in front. He scribbled down his number and did a doodle of an owl next to his name without a second thought, still riding high on the rush of playing. He held the scrap out to Kuroo, who took it with a gentle smile. It softened up his angular features and put a crinkle in his nose and Bokuto’s throat abruptly felt tight and full of sand.

“Cool,” Kuroo replied, tucking the scrap into his pocket carefully. “I’ll text you later so you get my number too. Nice.”

Bokuto gave him a happy thumbs-up and was distracted by writing down his email when the paper came to him. They all headed to the changing rooms in a loose group and once they were off-court, Bokuto’s energy drastically dropped. He changed clothes quietly while the others chatted, feeling sore and aching all over. His usually-frantic or intrusive thoughts were quiet, a vague murmur in the back of his skull, like white noise for once. He splashed water over his face and finger-combed his sweat-floppy hair back into tufts with a quick pass of wax on his fingertips. He hid a yawn in his palm and got his bag together.

There was a light tap on his shoulder and he turned, eyes drooping in tiredness and eyebrows raised questioningly.

“Have you got classes now?” Kuroo asked pleasantly. Bokuto noticed the clear plastic tubing looped over his ears and the casings mostly-hidden in his hair. He also noticed Kuroo apparently liked wearing extremely skinny jeans and loose tank tops under casual button-downs off-court. It was a very good look, showing off his toned arms and shoulders and _long_ legs.

“Uh.” Bokuto blinked rapidly a few times and dug in his bag for his schedule, yawning again. “Nope, apparently not. Full day tomorrow though.”

“Cool, cool.” Kuroo shoved his hands somehow in his jeans back pockets and scuffed his foot for a moment. “Me and Sawa and Yaku are gonna get something to eat, you wanna come? If you’re too tired it’s cool, I’m pretty knackered too…”

Bokuto managed a sleepy smile, though his cheeks ached. “Food would be great.”

“Cool!” Kuroo grinned back. “There’s a really good ramen place near campus, and I’m starving.”

As they walked, talking vaguely of their courses and the try-outs, Bokuto scrolled through his message log with a smile.

_[15:10] Akaaaaashiiiii      Bokuto-san, I hope your try-out goes well. I’m sure you’ll be accepted onto the team without any fuss._

Bokuto rubbed over the screen fondly and typed his reply.

_[17:32] OWL                     akaashhii!! :DDD it went super well ty, thnk im in w a chance on th team._

_[17:33] Akaaaaashiiiii      Good, I’m pleased for you. How are you settling in? I know nobody else from your year in Fukurodani were accepted into the university, it must be odd not to know people there._

Bokuto glanced up to where Kuroo was leaning down on Yaku’s shoulders while the shorter libero scowled and tried to get him off, and Sawamura laughed indulgently at them both.

_[17:35] OWL                     its not too bad :] goin out fr ramen w some nice guys frm tryts. i think itll b alright._

_[17:36] Akaaaaashiiiii      Good :]_

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